


Where's a Wooden Stake When you Need One?

by alwaysthrowsscissors



Series: Silly Fics for Fun Reasons [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accents, Bad Cooking, Biting, Blood Drinking, Campy, Chasing, Crack, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Humor, M/M, Sam Winchester is Scarred For Life, Silly, Vampire Dean Winchester, Vampires, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysthrowsscissors/pseuds/alwaysthrowsscissors
Summary: In which Dean Winchester turns into a stereotypical vampire, cape and all, and harasses Sam.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Silly Fics for Fun Reasons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187585
Comments: 27
Kudos: 85
Collections: SPNColdestHits





	Where's a Wooden Stake When you Need One?

**Author's Note:**

> Just some fun Halloween crack! Set in Season 8: my fav Sam hair era

Sam was finally enjoying an evening to himself, keeping busy in the kitchen making a luxurious culinary masterpiece: old spaghetti and a jar of sauce. Ok, so he wasn't much of a cook, but at least he bought a fresh package of garlic powder to make garlic bread for himself. With the spaghetti thrown into the boiling water, he started buttering bread, humming along to Celine Dion’s greatest hits, feeling very excited to have the massive, carb-loaded cheat meal without Dean teasing him about it. After a particularly heated spat a few days ago, fueled by lack of sleep and being covered in gremlin guts, Dean had decided to go on a relatively routine hunt on his own and Sam as much as kicked him out of the bunker in agreement. 

A rustling noise distracted Sam from his chefery for a moment, but looking behind himself, he saw nothing. Turning back to his buttering, after a few moments he felt something brush his cheek along with more foreboding rustling. Whipping back around he saw the empty kitchen staring back at him, vacant like a bed-bug ridden motel that some poor sap was rumoured to be dismembered in. He frowned, paused his Celine playlist, and squinted around.

“Dean?” He called into the void with only the butter knife in his hand to protect him lest it be someone or something other than his brother. “Cas, that you?” Silence crushed in on him. 

Suddenly, one of the light bulbs in the kitchen blew, throwing him into semi darkness. The ambiance could almost be mistaken as romantic if Sam had any company other than the boiling, possibly decade old pasta he found in the back of a cupboard. 

He slowly turned back around, and tore into the garlic powder, cursing softly when the plastic didn’t rip across the top evenly. He now had to yank the other side of the package where there was another little pre-cut notch, but in his attempt, he tore across the zip-lock part, effectively rendering it unsealable, the powder now destined to become terribly unfresh. He used a spoon to gather the garlic dusted all over the counter top, and began sprinkling it on his bread, but before he could open the oven, he heard the loudest rustle yet. He spun around and there was Dean standing less than a foot away, up in Sam’s personal space like an overly enthusiastic fragrance spritzer at Macy’s. 

“Dean, Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.” Sam breathed deeply in relief, and dropped the hand wielding the ineffectual butter knife he had involuntarily clutched up. 

Dean just stood and stared, chin tipped down slightly, glaring at Sam through his eye lashes. 

“Dude are you- are you wearing a cape?” Sam leaned back as far as he could to put more distance between him and his brother. 

“Vy yes Samuel, does it...frighten you?” Dean said in a thick Transylvanian accent.

“Ha ha, very funny Dean, I’m busy, you whack job.” With one last disturbed, derisive facial expression, Sam turned back to his spaghetti, that was likely getting fairly stodgy at this point, but Dean grabbed his shoulder and forced him to keep facing him. 

“What the fuck?” Dean stepped even closer and Sam could see that his skin was extremely pale and that his pupils were blown. No, his pupils weren’t blown, his once beautiful, green eyes were now black, irises enveloping the colour of his pupils like teeny tiny black holes. “Dean? Whats-”

Dean suddenly bared his teeth at his younger brother and lunged, hissing. Sam evaded him by darting to the side, shoving Dean’s chest as he went. Now Sam could take in his long black cape with red velvet lining, white tuxedo-style dress shirt and smart black cravat; he was wearing a Dracula costume? Complete with extremely convincing looking fangs attached to his canines, possibly with glue or something; very different from the angler fish fangs the vampires they were used to sported. He seems to have also dyed his hair black which was a stark contrast to his snow white skin. It was parted neatly, reminding Sam terribly of when Michael inhabited his brother's body. 

“I vant to suck your blood!” Dean kept up with the accent, stalking towards him slowly. Sam was starting to get very concerned, falling into step with his brother but heading backwards, keeping his shoulders square with Dean’s. 

“Dean, this isn’t funny. Seriously, knock it off.” 

“Make dis easy for yourself, human, and submit to me.” Dean lifted his cape letting it drape off his elbow that was crossed in front of his chest, advancing forward, looking more and more deranged by the minute.

“What happened on that hunt?” Sam could see the door in his periphery as he stepped around the kitchen in an arc; almost there.

“Someting vonderful, Samuel, someting that made me what I was truly meant to be.” Dean was wearing a longing expression, eyes fixed on Sam’s neck.

“Uhhh ok? So, you decided to put on a costume?” 

“I can smell you, you know, smell your life force pumping through your veins.”

Sam felt himself flush inexplicably. “You’re really starting to-”

“You _are_ frightened, your blood betrays you. So much delicious cortisol and adrenaline, it smells intoxicating.”

“ _Dean_ , get a _hold_ of yourself!” His brother's words were making him very uncomfortable and he had to admit that he was right. The more Dean kept up this act, the more worried Sam got. And those teeth looked damned sharp. Either Dean was demonstrating hitherto unknown special effects make-up skills, or they were actually real. 

As Sam backed into the hallway, his hand reached up to graze the doorframe and he realized he was still clutching the haphazardly torn bag of garlic powder. Dean sprung into action, darting towards him and Sam reacted fast, shaking the bag hard in his face, showering him with powder. He hissed and crumpled back, clutching his face 

“Hey! Not cool, man!” Dean shouted, sounding much more like himself but still with that ridiculous accent. He drew his hands back revealing an expression of cold rage, tiny welts peppered his pale visage where the garlic powder had hit him. His fangs were bared again and Sam finally understood: his brother was somehow transformed into a stereotypical vampire. 

Sam turned on his heel and began sprinting towards the library, towards his laptop, and hopefully towards answers. Maybe if he could grab it and lock himself in his room before Dean could catch him, he could figure out how to reverse whatever this was. 

Dean bolted after him, cape billowing behind him. “It is futile to run Samuel, I vill have you!” Dean yelled at Sam’s back. 

“You really need to listen to the fucking shit that's coming out of your mouth, Dean!” Sam shouted back, stumbling a bit due to the squirming that just erupted in his stomach. 

“You vill be mine, brother!” 

“Christ dude, _stop_!” 

He burst into the library and was taken off guard by the abrupt silence; Dean ceased thundering behind him. He spun around, eyes darting all over the room, nerves rattling like when you open the utensil drawer in the kitchen really fast. Dean ceased thundering anywhere, he was nowhere to be seen. 

That's when he heard it. Squeaking. Chattering. Fluttering. A bat was flapping around his head. _Dean_ was flapping around his head. Sam yelped and began running again, waving his arms over his head to try to fend him off, leaving the laptop behind forgotten. 

“You're such a dick! Fuck off!” Sam yelled as he ran. 

As soon as his hands fell still around the handle of a broom, Dean dive-bombed Sam, entangling himself in his hair. Sam shrieked embarrassingly, brandishing the broom in one hand and tugging Dean out of his hair with the other. Once emancipated from Sam’s locks, Dean’s tiny bat body was swatted out of the air against the war room wall. 

“Don't make me hurt you, Dean!” Sam paced around the big map table pointing the broom at Dean as he transformed back into his bizarre vampire self. Dean circled around the table, dark eyes honed in on his target, hair somewhat disheveled. He threw off the cumbersome cloak and Sam gulped; no more playtime. He glanced around the walls regretting not having more religious paraphernalia laying around. If only they were catholic, then there'd be crucifixes all over the walls at his disposal. 

“I will bite you one time, two times, ah ah ah!” 

Sam froze, frowning. “Are you doing the fucking Count from Sesame Street now?”

Dean used the opportunity to close the space between them, grabbed Sam's upper arm and shoved him against the wall roughly. Sam had a fleeting moment of noticing how ice cold Dean’s touch was before his thinking became fuzzy and stalled. Dean pressed himself firmly against Sam and ran his nose up his throat tucking it under the cut of his jaw, smelling him. Sam’s breath hitched as he shivered. He guessed that stereotypical vampire charm really worked. 

Dean grinned against Sam’s skin rendering him powerless, hopeless against Dean’s weight and new found vampire strength pinning him. His insides were buzzing, heart thrumming from fear and something else, something wanton and forbidden. Dean was far too close, felt far too good against him. He gasped and shuddered, feeling the sharp stab of fangs and the possessive, greedy swallowing of blood, hungry sucking, tongue laving over the bite. Sam pressed his eyes tight, jaw falling open, a moan trapped in this throat. He was completely unprepared for how amazing it felt to be taken this way by Dean, stomach twisting, heat rising under his skin. 

Dean pulled back chuckling, blood painting his plush lips red. “Brother, you enjoy dis.” He stated, not questioned. Sam guessed that the scent of his blood was, how did Dean put it, betraying him again. But Dean’s gaze downwards told Sam that there may have been another clue: his cock was hard. 

“I-I..Dean…” Sam stammered flushing.

Dean smiled darkly, licking his lips. He yanked off the wall and threw him down on the table, climbing up to straddle him. “Looks like I vill be taking more than your blood, little vun.” Sam was too shocked to speak. He bit his lip and trembled in anticipation. 

“I vill remove your clothes,” his tongue rasping Sam’s neck again, “vorship your body with my mouth,” a hand running down his torso to palm his cock, “and drain you, vile I fuck you,” a whispered promise in his ear. 

Sam couldn’t have said ‘no, stop’ for all the garlic bread in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write something so silly? Head over to https://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/625363367717158912/october-2020-prompt-a-graveyard-smash-posting
> 
> A very special thank you to demonologistindenim for the incredible fic art poster! I love it so so much!
> 
> Also, if you liked this go give my budbud outoftheashes some love 😈 https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SPNColdestHits/works/27086671


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